


The Entwined Halves

by CaffeinatedJimmie, Zawelt



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Destiny, Episode Fix-It: s01e06 Rare Species, Friends to Lovers, Geraskier Week, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Past, M/M, Meant To Be, Original Character(s), Pining Jaskier | Dandelion, physalis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:15:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23073055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeinatedJimmie/pseuds/CaffeinatedJimmie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zawelt/pseuds/Zawelt
Summary: Jaskier had never thought of becoming a bard. But when a voice emerging from an artefact utters his name, he wonders if he hasn't finally found his path.Geralt receives an artefact from an old woman as payment. He hears music coming from it. He's never heard it before but now seems incapable of forgetting it. Is it a curse or a call?The gathering of the artefacts and their owners: that is what Destiny foresees.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	The Entwined Halves

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [Les Deux Moitiés](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22972735) by [CaffeinatedJimmie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeinatedJimmie/pseuds/CaffeinatedJimmie), [Zawelt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zawelt/pseuds/Zawelt)
  * A translation of [Les Deux Moitiés](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22972735) by [CaffeinatedJimmie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeinatedJimmie/pseuds/CaffeinatedJimmie), [Zawelt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zawelt/pseuds/Zawelt). 



> Here is the first chapter of a 5 or 6-chapter story. I hope you'll enjoy it!  
> (a bonus smut chapter might be added one day).
> 
> We wrote this for Geraskier week: Destiny, but we're kinda late. It doesn't matter anyway! 
> 
> You can read it in French here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22972735/chapters/54917092

Yet another morning on which he had to wake up too early. It was always plain old torture to get up for weekly physical exercises. Two hours spent in the freezing air of the school at daybreak was hardly fun, especially when the teacher insisted on having everyone run on empty stomachs.

Jaskier removed himself from his warm bed with great difficulty and picked his uniform up from the floor. He dressed quickly and dashed through the empty dorms towards the courtyard.

Jaskier abhorred physical exercise. Waking up at the crack of dawn was never enjoyable ; even less so when he was meant to be harassed and humiliated by his classmates. He arrived late - as usual - and conveyed his apologies to the teacher, all the while panting from his run. 

Sir Nathan was a middle-aged man who took great pleasure in punishing those who put in the least efforts during his lessons, and Jaskier was no exception.

“Do not waste your breath in pathetic excuses, Mr. Pankratz of Lettenhove. Three more laps around the courtyard for you, that might make up for your incompetence”, he said. He clapped once, and all of his students began running along the walls enclosing the courtyard.

Soon enough, Jaskier was left behind by his classmates. He stumbled several times and almost fell flat on his face over the rough ground. The cold air burned his throat, and a stubborn stitch in his side kept him company during this tedious jog. He wondered if he wasn’t about to die right there on the spot, of starvation if not of exhaustion.

Yes, Jaskier was definitely not made for such activities. Frail, smaller than most young men his age, lifting a pile of books often turned out to be a trial of strength rather than dexterity. If only he looked a little more like his brothers! They were graced with muscles and a handsome visage, long and masculine, a powerful gaze in their dark eyes, while he merely inherited a body that his mother swore was thinner than a twig, a soft round head, pink cheeked, and big, bright blue eyes. Certainly no trait that would keep his peers from bothering him.

Of course, he was still brilliant in many classes, especially literature - his favorite subject. He’d read at least three times more the amount of books than most students in his school, and was already mastering with undeniable skill the art of language.

This often drew to him Sir Piotr’s compliments; he was a strict old man, slightly deaf, and their literature professor. Jaskier’s ability also attracted his fellow students’ jealousy as they did not receive the same preferential treatment.

The bell rang ten times, marking the end of their physical education class. Jaskier, covered in dust and sweat, grimaced and dragged his feet all the way to their teacher, lining up behind his classmates. They were about to hear Sir Nathan’s latest observations on their physical aptitude. Lost in his thoughts, he stared at his feet, used to waiting for his turn, which would come once the others had been covered in praise. A few blades of grass were growing within the gaps between the cobblestones, trying with great effort to live amidst this hostile world made of stone. The sun, which had come up far beyond the school’s walls, made the last drops of dew hanging on the strands evaporate. _Just like pearls_ , he mused.

Suddenly, a harsh gloved hand lifted his chin up and tightened its grip on his jaw like a vice. Jaskier found himself looking up into Sir Nathan’s face, the man’s foul breath seeping into his nostrils. It made his stomach churn. Yet he tried to look his teacher in the eye, despite the other’s prying stare.

“Sometimes I realise some of you are hopeless,” he scoffed. “ But I had never met anyone as terrible as you after decades spent in this school. And yet you dare daydream and stare at the ground in the middle of my class?”

Jaskier was feeling increasingly bad. He heard a few giggles and tried to ignore the twinge of pain that gripped him.

“I apologise, Sir.” he enunciated as best he could.

Sir Nathan finally released his hold with a sneer.

“That is much better, young man. Or young lady; one might actually wonder.”

Jaskier swallowed back his tears and left towards the dining hall, following his classmates and their jeering laughter. Crying was a weakness they would not hesitate to prey upon. He grit his teeth to contain his fury and tried to pretend nothing was wrong.

Jaskier didn’t have any true friends within the school. Some students nevertheless were slightly less rude than others and had the decency not to bother him. However Jaskier was often alone. Perhaps it was because of his bold personality, the way he kept talking - despite the lack of answers - and rambling his endless thoughts. Perhaps it was his schooling nature, the way he always spoke about his latest readings - and there were _many_ of them.

This left him enough time to explore the depths of the school and discover every nook and cranny while his classmates went about their business.

Jaskier knew the place like the back of his hand; and after a few months, he’d already found a corner of the library, forgotten by all. It was an old storage room full of stacked objects covered in dust, and the door was half concealed by a hanging. Rust had eaten away at the lock, so Jaskier barely pushed to open it. The storage room soon became a reading room. A wobbly table, a broken chair, worn shelves loaded with trinkets, vases, empty inkwells, mouldy old parchments… the room seemed frozen in the past.

That was what Jaskier loved about it.

There, sprawled over a bare bench, he could spend hours leafing through books increasingly thicker and more complex. He slept there sometimes, better than within the cold and unfriendly dorms. Every spare moment he had was spent devouring wonderful stories one after another, all of them written by generations of authors dead long before he was born. He found the Continent fascinating. There were so many kingdoms and landscapes to discover, far beyond the small end of the county he lived in.

* * *

Once diner was done and over with, Jaskier, exhausted by the terrible way the day had gone since the morning, decided to leave for his hideout to finish reading a compilation of travel stories within the North. The day might have started off quite bady, but this would certainly lift his spirits.

Something seemed odd, he realised when he went into the room. The drapery looked weirdly askew. Jaskier worriedly opened the door and froze.

Chaos. The furniture was flipped over, knocked against the ground. All that could be overturned laid on the ground, in a million pieces. Jaskier could barely recognize the things that not so long ago constituted the room’s decoration. Dust having fallen back, the crime must have taken place the night before.

Jaskier gaped at the mess, horrified. There was nothing anymore. No safe space in which to escape. The last ounce of joy he felt, reduced to naught by others’ fists and kicks, unfeeling to the value of this place. Faced with such a sad sight, Jaskier started to cry, unable to hold it in anymore.

What had he done to deserve such hate? Sir Piotr had once more congratulated him on his composition this afternoon, nothing unusual. Perhaps that proved to be the last straw that broke the camel’s back.

No, he’d done nothing to the others. Never would he have dared picking on them, in any way - but for his thoughts that, from time to time, cursed them for their constantly mocking him behind his back. No, they had no right to do this.

Jaskier entered the room carefully, the tiny pieces of glass crunching under his shoes. He felt like he was trampling on his own heart.

Suddenly, a sparkle drew his eye. Jaskier delicately lifted the wooden board covering the object, taking care not to get splinters in his hands. He found underneath a strange metal trinket linked to a long silver chain. The thing fit in the palm of his hand; it was as heavy and cold as ice. Its shape reminded him of that of a physalis, with smooth curves and a plain side as if the fruit had been split in two by an axe.

Jaskier looked at the object, astonished. He’d never found anything so surprising in the room. Was it forgotten here by one of the culprits? How could anyone drop such a thing on hard stone without realising it? The sound of it falling should have been obvious, right?

“Whatever,” he grumbled, all the while tightening his hold on the silver pendant. 

Then, a golden light emanated from the medallion and it started floating near his face. Jaskier held out his hand to catch it. A soft warmth spread out through the air around the aura and surrounded him. His head started hurting while his ears buzzed with unknown sounds. Jaskier recognized the faint melodies of various instruments ringing in his head, and reaching him through the strange haze was a distinct voice, deep and calm, that told him _“I could not have dreamt of having a better bard by my side, Jaskier…”_

Jaskier did not hear the rest of the man’s sentence. The noise knocked him out and he fell, the artefact still in hand.

When he woke up, nothing emanated from the object anymore. Neither sounds nor light. The vague memory of the voice calling his name was the only thing he could remember. The voice had said his name. It had said he was a bard. 

Jaskier was confused. He’d never considered such a path, however… why not? He could imagine the journeys, the freedom to live unattached on the road, with unlimited inspiration and music following him everywhere he’d go. He’d finally leave the Lettenhove lands and the cursed school his parents had enrolled him in! 

Thus he came to a decision and, mustering his courage, he announced it as soon as he could to his parents. They were quite reluctant at first, but he managed to persuade his mother, who could barely imagine her frail son surviving as a courtier amongst the many plots. That’s how, at nineteen, Jaskier became a student at Oxenfurt University, the most renowned of bard schools in the Continent.

**Author's Note:**

> In Chapter Two: Geralt meets a strange nice old woman.
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr for more news! https://caffeinatedjimmie.tumblr.com
> 
> Please show us your appreciation if you've liked this story!
> 
> With Zawelt, we wrote down our ideas, I then wrote in French and she translated it into English. If you notice spelling mistakes and odd grammar, tell us, we'd like to improve.
> 
> Thanks and see you soon!


End file.
